Better than Misery
by Seraphim 321
Summary: ...NO. Okay, I concede: there's a much better - and longer - summary inside.
1. Intro'

Okay, so the following 'series' will be a collection of (really)short, little one-shots that have little or nothing to do with each other. The single common thread will be that they are all named after Three Days' Grace songs – and more than likely have some to little to do with that. The status of the 'story' will be 'complete' since they're all one-shots (so therefore already complete) and also since it's not really gonna be clear which song titles are actually gonna be used - I am willing to take requests of their songs, so if you want a certain song in there, just ask and you might receive. There will definitely be titles missing since I can't really write a successful HD fic to that specific one. You never know which song titles will be used, so make sure to add this one to your alerts list so you can read all the new chappies!!

Anyway, you get the idea.

…I hope.

Enjoys,

Queen Seraphim.

PS: I'll have all of you know that this…collection of one-shots is the only real reason I completed ASDP. Be happy that I'd go crazy if I didn't finish the previous one and write these down – well that and Heather would beat me if I posted others without finishing the Plans.


	2. Time of Dying

Time of Dying

Harry hadn't seen the spell until it was too late. The flash of green wasn't aimed at him, yet he was as worried as if it were. As if in slow motion, he watched the deadly curse zoom across the battlefield, barely missing friends and foes alike. The target wasn't even aware of his imminent doom until the spell was on him, illuminating his platinum blonde hair and making his eyes sparkle almost as green as Harry's.

Harry watched as his boyfriend of four months fell to the earth, unmoving and lifeless.

"Draco!" Harry cried. He abandoned whichever Death Eater he'd been dueling to race toward the Slytherin. Harry crumpled to his knees beside Draco and cradled the blonde head in his lap.

He didn't realize he'd been sobbing until he hiccupped; only then did he notice the cool breeze stealing the warmth from his damp cheeks.

It took another few moments for him to realize the fighting had ceased; everyone was staring at the Boy Who Lived as he cried over his dead boyfriend. He didn't care, though. All that was going through his mind was that Draco was gone.

Another moment and another thought entered his mind: Lucius had been the one to cast the curse. The man had killed his own son all because they were on different sides of the war.

With one last kiss to Draco's forehead, Harry set his head back down on the earth and rose to his feet. No one moved as he stood nor did anyone make a sound. They just watched. Slowly, Harry turned and, almost as if he willed it, the crowd parted, leaving nothing and no one between him and Lucius Malfoy. Fury built in him as he stared at the older man and revenge stormed to the front of his mind. He wanted Lucius dead for what he did to Draco.

Without even thinking, he raced at Lucius, intent on killing him with his own hands – his wand was lying in the grass beside Draco. All he wished was to get his fists around that long throat and purge the life from him in the most excruciating method he had at hand. With only feet between them, he launched himself at Lucius, his arms stretched out and his fingers curled into claws.

He didn't make contact with his target; a green flash raced at him from his peripheral vision and he was gone before he could complete his revenge.

--

_Eighteen years later_

"I can't believe you drug me all the way to London to get a tattoo," Drake pouted, leaning against a wall but making sure he arse was well away from the offensive brick. He had opted to stand next to his dark-haired boyfriend, who was sitting on a convenient bench.

"Well, it was you who promised to go get a tattoo with me when I turned eighteen," the other boy said, smirking. His smirk grew all the wider as he watched Drake attempt to reposition himself without letting anything touch his derriere. "Besides, you didn't _have _to get yours where you did. You could've gotten it on your shoulder or something."

"I wasn't about to copy you, James," Drake declared as he ran a hand through his perfectly gelled platinum tresses.

James laughed. "Yeah, you copied me alright with your dragon."

"Hey, it's better than a pair of broomsticks," the blonde said. "One would think that it's a good thing you're gay, because of your obsession with such obvious phallic symbols."

James smiled sweetly up at Drake, making the boy's heart to flutter. "Of course it's a good thing, otherwise, who would love you?"

Drake huffed. "I could find _someone_." James gave him a dubious look. "Of course not someone as good as you, but someone nonetheless."

James rolled his green eyes. "Sure." He glanced as his watch. "Okay, it's about time. Did the guy at the ticket booth say Platform 9 or 10?"

It was Drake's turn to roll his eyes. "Do you remember anything? We board at Platform 9, dear."

"Hey, at least I'm not as bad at forgetting as that one guy," James said vaguely.

"You mean the one that's horrible at home ec?" Drake asked. James nodded. "Yeah, he never remembers anything, does he?" James shook his head. "Doesn't he always manage to make his soups blow-up?"

A warning bell cut through their conversation, telling them that their train would be leaving shortly, whether or not they were on it. Together, they turned to make their way toward Platform 9.

"You know, I can see it now," Drake mused as they walked. "You somehow get a collection of brooms in your house and some little kid stops by for reasons unbeknownst to all involved. When he sees your brooms, he'll get all wide-eyed – you know the way those children do. Then, with some sort of reverence, he'll say something stupid like, 'You're a wizard, James.'"

James laughed at this. "At least they won't think I'm an elf or a fairy. The way you look, all you need are ears, and I'm sure most kids are willing to overlook that fact."

James had to duck out of the way lest he wished to be smacked in the back of his head.

End.


	3. Animal I have Become

Animal I have Become

"Don't even lie to me, Pans," Draco growled as he glared at her reflection. "They are so obviously visible." He looked at himself in the mirror. "I mean, look at that! They protrude almost a whole inch!"

"Draco, if they were that long, you wouldn't be able to speak articulately," Pansy reasoned as she looked over her fingernails to make sure they were all even.

"Hyperbole, Pansy, learn to love it," Draco bit back.

"You're so angry all the time," Pansy replied with a pout.

"It's a side-effect," the blonde explained.

"Of being bitten?" Pansy asked. When Draco nodded, she just rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, Draco groaned and flopped back in his chair rather inelegantly but _extremely _melodramatically. "This is social suicide!"

"Yeah, 'cause you bit yourself and got yourself infected with vampirism," Pansy said sarcastically. "It's so plainly all your fault."

"Oh, shut up," Draco grumbled. He slouched against the back of his chair and said nothing more, leaving Pansy to muse silently to herself.

As Draco sat there, thinking about rather menacing thoughts, an aroma wafted into his room. It was a pleasing aroma, but one that Draco knew wouldn't have mattered much a week ago. The hint of cinnamon in the almost overwhelming vanilla calmed his nerves and drove his brooding mood away. Pansy noticed the slight change in him.

"What's up, Draco?" she asked.

Draco took in a lungful of the odor. "I smell something very…pleasant."

Pansy tried to smell whatever it was that relaxed Draco. "I don't smell anything. I think you can only smell it because of your heightened senses."

Draco sighed. "I really don't like being a vampire."

"We just need something to get your mind off of it, then," Pansy suggested.

"Like what?" he asked. He took another whiff of the air; something had been added to the mix. It was bitter but sweet at the same time. The scent was very familiar to Draco.

"I don't know," Pansy pondered aloud. "Maybe go on a date or something like that."

"Sure, 'cause you just _know_ every guy in this whole castle is lining up to go on a date with a _vampire_," Draco declared sarcastically. The aroma became stronger; his other senses sang and his mind almost screamed at him to go find where its source was. "Besides, vampires have a fated mate, so a good lot that'll do me."

"Question: is whiney, little bitch also a side effect of vampirism?" Pansy asked. "It doesn't really matter if it is, I just wanted to know."

Draco merely made a face at her before he stood up and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To find wherever this scent is coming from," he replied. "I need to know."

"Fine, but I'm coming with," she declared as she jumped from the chair she was sitting in to follow Draco.

Many turns, a few – dozen – staircases, and one too many detours later, the pair had found themselves out on the Quidditch Pitch in the shadow of a lone flyer practicing various breakneck techniques. Realization dawned on Draco almost immediately.

"Aw, fuck no."

"What? Who is it?" Pansy asked, squinting up at the distant figure. "You know my eyes aren't as good as yours are now."

The figure seemed to sense that they were standing far below him, because he began to descend toward them. It wasn't long before Pansy could tell who he was without Draco's aid. She got out a snicker before Draco fixed her with a homicidal glare.

"And what can I do for you two?" Harry asked when he came to land near them.

Pansy grinned as Draco scowled and rolled his eyes.

"It seems you're gonna be the one to tame this animal," she informed the Gryffindor through a very amused grin.

End.


	4. Home

Home

"What do you mean, you're leaving?" Lucius asked, his eyes stormy gray from the anger he'd built up listening to his son.

"Just what I've said, father," Draco said defiantly. "You always made it seem as though I was never welcome here, anyway. What difference would it make if I'm not here?"

Draco turned to walk out of his father's study. He'd almost made it to the door before Lucius yelled at him, "You're no son of mine if you walk out that door!"

Instantly, the younger Malfoy turned on his heel and glared at his father. "I'm no son of yours whether I walk out that door or not! You never gave a damn about me until it came time to train me in the Arts! Even then, you only stuck around for those three hours a day before you left again! When I look back, I remember more about my servants than I could ever remember about you! You were never here!"

"I was never here because I was helping my Lord!" Lucius boomed. "I was helping him better this world for the purebloods! I was trying to make your life better!"

"No," Draco shouted. "If you wanted to make my life better, you would've been there for me, instead of pushing me into impossible situations. You would've told me you were proud of me; you would've been there when I needed you most!"

"Like when, Draco? When did you need me? You were always an independent man, just like your father," the man growled.

Draco read off his litany from memory. "When I was growing up; when mom died; wh-when I realized exactly who it was I loved!"

"If you were a _true _Malfoy, you wouldn't have needed me in those events," Lucius informed him in an icy drawl.

"See, father, that's exactly what I mean," Draco sneered in retort. "You were _never _satisfied with whatever I did: I was never a proper Slytherin, I was never a proper Malfoy, and I was never a proper son. Everything I did to try to get your attention, you always saw something that could've been better; some flaw in the perfect form. And you wonder why I'm leaving this house and never coming back."

With that, Draco whirled around and stormed out of the study; his robes were billowing behind him dramatically.

Lucius watched as he son walked through those doors and out of his life.

--

"How did it go?" Harry asked when Draco finally arrived at their shared flat. He'd been anxious since the blonde man had left early that afternoon; he knew that Draco had gone to finally rid himself of the burden that was his father. It worried him that the other man insisted on going by himself. Moreover, it worried him what Lucius would do in reaction. However, his lover was back in one piece and under no recognizable spell; everything was fine.

"I feel so much better," Draco confided as he rubbed his neck. He was surly going to get a headache from the events of this evening.

Harry obediently stepped forward and took over for Draco; he began to massage the tight and knotted muscles at the base of the blonde's neck. Draco moaned in appreciation as Harry dug at a particularly stubborn knot.

Without pausing in his ministrations, Harry leaned forward until his lips were right next to Draco's ear and whispered, "Welcome home, love."

End.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I'm going on vacation starting tomorrow, so don't really expect me to update anything for, say, about eighteen days. Ciao.


	5. Wake Up

Wake Up

"Draco," Harry called, his voice already hoarse with overuse. He sat, slumped against a locked door, his muscles too tired from standing for much too long. He knocked on the door again, but no answer came from the opposite side.

"Draco," Harry whined again. "Love, I'm sorry. Please open the door."

Still, no answer came. Harry was really beginning to get anxious.

"Draco, for the love of Merlin, it was an accident; I swear it won't happen again," he pleaded. The other boy had to forgive him for his misdeeds – he'd been standing outside for bloody hours trying to apologize through the heavy door! Horror had filled Harry's mind as he thought that the blonde was outright ignoring him.

"Draco." His voice had hit the 'begging' tone some time ago, but it became all the more prominent in the single word as he tried to get through to his boyfriend.

"What?" that familiar voice asked from behind Harry.

Harry whirled around, surprised to see Draco's countenance without the touch of anger he thought would be there. His surprised turned to relief that the Slytherin wasn't mad at him in the slightest. With the last reserves of energy he had, Harry stood up and wrapped his arms around Draco.

"No seriously, Harry, what were you doing sitting outside my door?" Draco reiterated.

"I thought you were mad at me, and you locked yourself in your room, and that you were ignoring me, and-"

"Why should I be mad at you, love?" Draco asked as he pulled out of Harry's embrace and gave the Gryffindor a confused look. Suddenly, Harry became somewhat sheepish.

"I – uh – kinda used the last of your…um…" The end of the sentence was mumbled and Draco couldn't understand it.

"Harry, you're gonna have to speak up," Draco coaxed. "I can't hear you."

He was visibly uncomfortable under Draco's gaze. After taking a deep, calming breath, Harry continued: "I used the last of your…conditioner."

At first, Harry thought that Draco didn't mind, as he merely walked past the dark-haired boy and unlocked his door. It wasn't until Draco entered his room and shut his door again that Harry became anxious again. He knew he'd best be feeling more than anxious when he hear the tell-tale _click_ of the lock.

"Draco?" He said to the door. "Draco."

No answer came from within, so he knocked.

"Draco, open the door."

End.


	6. It's All Over

It's All Over

"Harry, you really must stop this," Draco said. Everyone in the circle nodded in agreement. Harry merely looked at them in confusion.

"Stop what? What am I doing?" he asked the group surrounding him.

Draco sighed and pulled Harry into a loose hug. "You can't hide it, Harry. We all know."

"I'd still like to know what I'm supposedly doing," Harry reiterated. "I don't get this whole intervention."

"Harry," Hermione said quietly. "We worry for you, especially since you can't see what you're doing to yourself. We see it, and we don't like it."

Harry was somewhat surprised by the simmer of a tear in her eye.

"Guys, seriously, you're gonna have to give me more information," he said.

"Harry, you shouldn't deny it," Pansy pleaded. She, too, had the telltale signs of tear-filled eyes. "You need to be honest with yourself if you're gonna quit this."

"What exactly am I quitting?" Harry asked. He was now genuinely confused. "I'm not addicted to anything."

"Oh, Merlin," Blaise gasped. "He's in denial."

"Denial of what?" the confused Gryffindor asked. "What am I addicted to? I'd really like to know before I think about the whole quitting process."

Hermione suddenly gave a small sob and buried her face in Ron's shoulder. Ron merely gave Harry a disappointed look as he ran his fingers through his girlfriend's hair.

"Look at what you did to Herm," Draco chided. "C'mon, Harry, if for nothing else, then do it for her."

"I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be doing," Harry said. His patience was beginning to wear thin. What exactly was it that they wanted him to quit? Nothing came to the forefront of his mind. Unless…no, they wouldn't be holding an intervention for something so mundane.

"You're supposed to be listening to us," Ginny claimed. "You're supposed to listen and have an epiphany about your life and where it's going if you continue on how you are. After this epiphany, you're supposed to quit and all will be merry again. Either that or you will kill yourself for what you put us through; we really hope it's the former."

"Where the hell did you get that notion, Gin?" Harry asked. The longer everyone talked, the more he began to think that they had been hit with some sort of curse.

"The Muggle movies," Ginny replied with a shrug. "So what is it? Are you gonna quit or off yourself?"

"I have to know what I'm quitting before I make that decision," Harry declared.

"Harry, I really hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but…" The end of the sentence kind of trailed off as Draco pulled something from the pocket of his robes. "I found this under your pillow."

Realization dawned on Harry as to what they wanted him to quit; so it really _was _something so mundane. His brow furrowed for a moment. _Why would they hold an intervention for that?_

"Draco, I think this is a misunderstanding," Harry said. "Either that or you guys are all just _way _too bored. I mean, after all, they're just blood pops."

"If they're 'just blood pops', then why do you have to hide them?" Hermione asked as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Well, I was hoarding them from Draco; he likes them and I know that if I left them out in the open, he would take all of them," Harry explained.

"So they're not laced with any random, hallucinogenic drug?" Blaise asked rather dubiously.

"No, they're just regular blood pops."

"Promise?" Draco asked.

"I'll take veritaserum if I have to," Harry said.

"Oh thank Merlin," Draco sighed as he pulled Harry into a tight embrace.

Somewhat satisfied that their friend wasn't on any drugs, the main portion of the group left the room, leaving Harry and Draco alone.

After many quiet moments, Harry spoke: "You know, they way you lot were carrying on, I thought you'd found my stash."

"Stash?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, the _huge_ collection of yaoi in my wardrobe," Harry clarified. "If you're gonna be addicted to something, might as well be something good. Besides, when one is addicted to yaoi, they don't have the money for drugs."

"Harry, I think we're the exception to the rule, seeing as how we're bloody rich," Draco commented.

"Oh, right," Harry conceded.

End.


	7. I Hate Everything About You

A/N: I know it's totally cliché, so just hush up and read…

I Hate Everything About You:

"No, Pans, I'm not gonna apologize, it's his fault," Draco said stubbornly. Pansy merely shook her head and sighed at the blonde sitting across from her.

Up several flights of stairs and through a portrait of a rather portly woman, another conversation was following the same tracks.

"No, Herm, he's the one at fault. Go make him apologize," Harry replied just as stubbornly. Hermione rolled her eyes at the boy.

"Well, if you told me what he did in the first place, maybe I could convince him to do so," she suggested. Knowing Harry, he probably had some part in the problem, too.

Likewise was happening in the Dungeons.

"Draco, you'll have to tell me what he did this time if you want me to make him apologize," Pansy ordered. She knew that if her best friend was involved, then it was half his fault anyway.

"I went to Professor Snape and asked him if we could brew some easier potions so that Harry wasn't so overwhelmed with everything," Draco said.

"Draco had the audacity to go to Snape and get the bastard to give us easier assignments, so I wouldn't feel stupid! Which I already do, needing the easier potions!" Harry confided in Hermione.

"Well, don't you think he could've mistaken it?" Pansy asked Draco.

"Are you sure you didn't misinterpret his meaning?" Hermione asked Harry.

"No," they answered in unison, despite their separation.

"I do believe my intentions were very clear," Draco announced.

"It's obvious that he's still trying to belittle me even when we're going out!" Harry accused.

"Did you tell him?" Pansy questioned.

"Has he done anything like this recently?" Hermione queried.

"Well, no." Both boys sounded a bit sheepish.

"Then how do you know it wasn't misconstrued?"

"Then how do you know he's trying to belittle you?"

"I don't know," both boys replied.

"Okay, Dray, let's move on. What happened after Potions?" Pansy asked.

"I'm sure that can't be everything, Harry. Did anything happen later?" Hermione wondered.

"Yeah! He brushed me off when I wanted to walk with him to dinner!" Draco said, getting annoyed all over again. "He walked away without saying anything to me!"

"No, I just walked up here to wait and vent at you," Harry confessed.

Pansy and Hermione both sighed. How could their boys be so dense?

"Draco, here's what you're gonna do," Pansy advised. "You're gonna go up to the Tower and you're gonna apologize, whether you like it or not." She had to raise her voice at the end to halt his protests.

"You need to do something for me, okay Harry?" Hermione said. "I need you to go down to the Dungeons and apologize to Draco. And you're gonna do it without protesting." Harry glared at her.

"Now!" the girls ordered.

"Fine!" the boys whined.

Draco and Harry walked up flights of stairs and down flights of stairs, respectively. Both were so immersed in their brooding that they almost walked right past each other in a dimly lit corridor.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asked with a sneer.

"Same goes for _you_, Malfoy," Harry retorted, his voice just as cold.

"I was merely on my way up to say that I hate you," the blonde replied cruelly.

"Well, I was headed to the Dungeons to tell you that I hate you," the Gryffindor snapped back.

They glared at each other for a moment before Harry sighed.

"Well, now that that's all settled, let's go find an empty classroom," he suggested.

Draco merely shrugged. "I'm in."


	8. Never Too Late

Never Too Late:

"Aw, c'mon Draco, get down from there," Harry pleaded. He'd gotten over begging and far past whining and was almost to ordering his boyfriend to remove himself from the railing of the Astronomy Tower. Draco, however, wasn't listening to Harry and merely stared down into the dark abyss below him.

"I can't, Harry," the blonde relied. "I have done an unspeakable thing; my father will never forgive me, my mother will never forgive me, and most of all, Severus will never forgive me. I am doomed to lead a life where no one loves me anymore, and I just can't live with that."

"Draco, _I _still love you; nothing's changed between us." Harry really couldn't believe that Draco had taken it this far.

"No, Harry, everything's changed. I can see it in the way you look at me – I _know_ that you think less of me now," Draco explained. Harry merely looked at him like he'd gone completely nutters, which was, by this point, only half true.

"C'mon Draco, come on down and we can talk about this," Harry said again, but his teeth had begun to chatter. It was the middle of October and he was bloody _freezing_. He hadn't any time to get a cloak, because he was told that Draco would throw himself off at any moment. In his urgency to get to the Astronomy Tower, he didn't have time to grab a cloak and he was really beginning to regret it.

"I don't know why you don't give up on me, Harry," Draco said in his melodramatic fashion. "After all, I am now less of a person to you and to everyone, so I might as well just be gone."

"No, Draco. Like I said, come down and we can talk." He felt that he was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"No."

"Aw, Draco. No one thinks less of you for this; not Ron, not Hermione, not even the Slytherins." Even as Harry explained, he smiled to himself because Hermione _wouldn't _think less of him for it; in fact, she would be happy because she would now be the top student in the school.

"You can't tell me that the Slytherins think less of me, I'm just not gonna buy that one," Draco said over his shoulder.

"Okay, well maybe not _all _of the Slytherins, but certainly Blaise and Pansy don't think less of you," Harry said convincingly. Draco didn't answer. "Goyle and Crabbe don't think less of you either."

"Well, you're right there simply on the grounds that they don't think," Draco said bitterly. He certainly didn't think too highly of his two housemates.

Harry was really beginning to get tired of Draco's tantrum. Who the hell went so far as to throw themselves off the Astronomy Tower because they didn't get the best grade in Potions?! Well, obviously Draco, but he was ostentatious anyway.

"Fine, Draco! Sulk up here for all I care. Throw yourself off! I'll be down in your dorm with nothing on if you change your mind!" Harry turned and stormed off. If nothing else, his little show would get Draco off the railing and out of the Astronomy Tower.

--

Twenty minutes later found Harry sitting on Draco's bed, fully dressed. He was examining his cuticles as he waited for Draco to make up his mind. Suddenly, the door burst open to reveal a huffing and ruffled Draco.

"I thought you said you'd be naked!" he accused after seeing Harry's state of dress.

"I lied," Harry answered without looking up from his cuticles.

"Well maybe I'll just go back up there and really jump." Even as Draco pouted at his boyfriend, he sat down on his bed.

"Good luck with that," Harry mumbled.

"Why aren't you concerned? You should be begging me not to go and trying to keep me from actually going through with this," Draco suggested.

"Oh, no, Draco, don't go," Harry said, rather unenthusiastically.

"I'm not convinced."

"Well, it's not like you'd get very far, even if you did," Harry pointed out.

"And why not?"

"Obviously, you have failed to remember the balcony just below the roof of the Astronomy Tower," Harry supplied. "I remembered about half way through your little tantrum."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But since you didn't throw yourself off, I guess I can reward you," Harry said suggestively. He leered at his boyfriend.

"Oh? Maybe I should not throw myself off more often," Draco replied.

"Oh, shut up," Harry chided as he pushed Draco back onto the bed.

End.


	9. Over and Over

Over and Over:

"Harry, you're gonna have to stop, everyone's beginning to notice," Hermione commented as they sat at lunch. Harry tore his gaze away from the spot over her shoulder to look at Hermione in the eye.

"I can't help it," he confessed.

"You know he'll never feel the same way about you, right?" she asked, knowing full well that bringing that up would depress him some.

"I know, Herm. But like I said, I can't help it," Harry reiterated.

They continued to eat in silence as the Hall buzzed around them. The latest gossip was that Neville was going out with a Slytherin, but all of the Gryffindors refused to believe it.

--

"Harry, seriously, you have to stop," Hermione said again. She wasn't entirely sure how many times she'd said that in as many days, but it really was beginning to get old.

"Can't help it," he confessed again, although this time, it was a little more forlorn. The fight in the hallway that morning couldn't have helped matters any.

The Hall buzzed again as the sat in silence. The latest gossip was that Snape had found love in an old school rival. The Slytherins refused to believe it.

--

Hermione didn't even comment when she saw Harry's eye wander. Instead, she left the room altogether. She didn't want to see her best friend tear himself apart from the inside all because of a boy – a Slytherin boy at that.

Harry didn't follow her.

The Hall buzzed with more gossip about Trelawney and man from Hogsmeade. Everyone laughed.

--

Hermione noticed that Harry didn't look anywhere other than the plate of food laid before him. His fork didn't do anything other than move the food around and make clanking noises on the plate. She sighed.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, her maternal instincts taking hold.

"Nothing," he sighed. She knew he was lying.

"No really, Harry, what is it?"

He set he fork down and looked her in the eye. "I'm trying to get him out of my head. I'm trying to purge him from every thought. It's not working. I feel like I'm empty – like I'm dead."

"Harry, he's not good for you, though," she reminded him.

"I know, but I can't help it," he replied in a resigned voice.

Hermione sighed. "Why him?"

"I don't know. I've tried not to, but I can't help it."

Hermione let Harry go back to playing with his food.

The Hall buzzed with gossip about McGonagall and Flitwick. Everyone was disgusted.

--

Hermione didn't see Harry at lunch. Ron didn't know where he was; neither did Ginny. She hoped he was okay.

The Hall buzzed with gossip about Hagrid and his Magical Creatures. No one wanted to think about that one.

--

Hermione noted that Harry was in a much better mood than he's been in a long while. He smiled while he played with his food this time and every time he looked over Hermione's shoulder, he blushed slightly.

"What's up with you, Harry?" she asked, slightly suspicious.

He ducked his head as he mumbled, "Nothing."

She didn't miss the blush.

The Hall buzzed with gossip about a relationship between two rival Seekers. No one was sure if they could believe it.

End.


	10. One X

One X:

Draco stood under the solitary streetlamp at the corner, wondering if it was gonna be one of those nights. Lately it had been; he'd be all alone with only his thoughts to fill his time – and lately, his thoughts were filled with Potter. He didn't know what was worse: actually having a customer, or thinking about Potter. Sure, the former was horrible, and he didn't like it, but the latter…the latter was almost heart wrenching. Even for the Ex-Ice Prince of Slytherin.

If the rumors were true, which they most likely were lately, then Potter was used and left alone after the War. The Wizarding world cast him aside when he did his job and forgot about him. Even his so-called friends left him – they got married and had a family which hardly included the man.

Draco almost felt that he could relate, although not entirely. Before the War ended, Draco defected to Potter's side – not for the hero or his cause, but merely because he didn't like the man his father had turned in to. He was effectively disinherited and all but left on the streets in Muggle London. When he tried to go to the Ministry, they ignored him completely – he wouldn't be getting any help from them. Draco soon found out that he couldn't get by on only his name, so he went into business – not a very reputable business, but at least it gave him a source of income so he could live.

The more he thought about it, the more he and Potter were alike. Both men had helped the Ministry defeat the Dark Lord, but they were both cast aside and left to deal with what had gone on alone. Neither had seen the rejection coming; they both thought that, due to their help, they would be given thanks or, at the very least, some sort of acknowledgment. No one provided any such thing.

Draco sighed and looked at his watch. It was quarter after one; no one had come all night, and no one was gonna show up. He left his station at the corner and walked a block to his flat. He went to bed, knowing that the night's thoughts would spur disturbing dreams that bordered on nightmares.

--

Sleepless and rather anxious, Draco found himself outside the last known residence of Harry Potter – no one really knew what happened with him, because no one had seen him in while. He knocked.

No one answered, so he knocked again.

He scowled at the door. He's lost sleep over the other man; there was no way he was going to be leaving after only a few knocks. Removing his wand from his sleeve, he cast a quick _Alohamora_ on the door. It didn't do anything, so he tested the door knob. It opened. Of course, in a situation such as this, it only seemed rational that he should go inside.

The living room didn't look lived in; neither did the kitchen. Draco wandered through the small flat, opening doors with an audible _creak_. The entire place was empty, save for a few meagerly treated furnishings. When he arrived at the bedroom, however, he found that the occupant reduced his living space to said room.

Draco found Potter lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. Dishes containing food were placed precariously on any flat, horizontal surface. Clothes were scattered about the room, thought none looked to have been worn.

Draco's stomach dropped; so, the rumors were more than true.

With a sigh, he set about gathering the dishes and taking them to the kitchen. Potter didn't notice him – if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. When all of the dishes were removed from the room, Draco set about cleaning them in the barely used sink. A few years ago, he wouldn't have even _thought_ about washing dishes for himself, let alone Potter, but time had changed the circumstances and thereby changed him. He was almost finished when he became aware of another presence.

"Well, hello, Potter," he greeted without even turning around. Silence answered him. "Fine, you don't have to talk. I'm used to quiet."

Still, he received no answer. Like he said, Draco was fine with that as he finished the dishes.

When he finally left the kitchen, Draco found Potter sitting on a damaged sofa, staring into the empty fireplace.

"Malfoy," said Potter, quietly. Long moments dragged by; Draco thought that the other man was merely acknowledging his presence, so he went about with a rag to dust the living room. The mantle was almost clean when Potter spoke again. "What are you doing here?"

Draco stopped his ministrations and looked at him. "Well, I'm cleaning your flat, since you don't think it worthy enough of your attention."

The other man didn't answer, so he went back to cleaning.

"Why?" Potter whispered after a few silent moments.

"Because I can't stand filth," Draco answered.

"You know what I meant, Malfoy." Potter was beginning to sound annoyed, which was already a step above what he did sound like.

Draco sighed. "Well, I've been thinking and…well, we've both been knocked down and quite frankly, I don't like it. I don't like how people have thrown me out – even though I can kind of see where they're coming from. What I don't like even more is that they threw _you_ out – you saved them and they still treat you as bad as they do me and I'm the son of a Death Eater. I figured that if we tried and gave each other support, we may be able to pull ourselves back up." He looked around at Potter's living space and thought about his own occupation. "We are both better than this, Potter. We deserve better than this."

--

_Four Years Later_

"Draco!" Harry called from one end of a lavishly decorated hall.

"Harry!" Draco called back. "What is it!? I'm gonna be late!"

Harry scrunched up his face and shifted the bundle in his arms. "I think that the Wizenagemot will wait for a minute. I need some help with Cissa."

The ex-Gryffindor could hear his husband muttering under his breath as he made his way down the hall. Draco stepped into the doorway wearing his usual work attire. "Love, the Chief Warlock is _never_ late."

"Well, he can be this one time," Harry retorted. "And if anyone complains, tell them that the Minister said so; I'm sure that's gotta count for something."

Draco sighed. "Fine, what do you need help with?"

"Apparently, Cissa's already gotten her father's fashions sense, and won't wear whatever I try to put on her. Help?" Harry pouted, looked up at Draco with the puppy-dog eyes that he knew the blonde couldn't ignore.

Draco sighed again and looked at his watch. He wouldn't be _that_ late. And he had the permission of the Minister (which of course counted for something). With a smile on his face, Draco took the small girl from Harry's arms and went about getting an outfit together.

End.


	11. Are You Ready

Are You Ready:

Harry looks out at the collection of faces in the crowd, knowing that these people represent only a fraction of those lost during the War. Now, standing here, only a mere five weeks after the last of the Death Eaters have been arrested and the threat of Voldemort only a memory, Harry wonders exactly how many more lives may have been lost if he hadn't played the stupidly specific part assigned to him.

He takes a deep breath before taking a deeper sip of his champagne. A throat clears in the crowd below him.

"Are you ready?" he asks the people he used to know and his newly acquired friends. "Are you sure?" Silence answers him. "Okay, just a moment, then, because I'm not."

Harry downs the rest of his champagne and grabs another from a passing waiter below him; he quickly downs this one, too.

"Okay, I'm ready," he announces. "I want to tell you a story, a story about this war that no body will know except me and one other person. Sit down Hermione, they need to know."

The bushy-haired woman he is talking to takes her seat with a worried expression.

"To start, I'm not going to tell you what you all know," Harry starts. "I'm not going to tell you the half-true stories you already read from Rita Skeeter. I'm going to start from the moment that my life became my own – or as much of my own as it will ever get.

"After Dumbledore died seven years ago, I tried to distance myself from others so maybe they wouldn't die to keep me alive. I didn't want my role to dictate the roles and lives of others merely because they knew me. One person, however, wouldn't let me ignore them.

"At first, this person was an annoying appendage, never leaving my side except when necessary. I told them to leave me alone or they'd die just like everybody else, but they were having no part of that. The months and years after Dumbledore's death, they were there for me; every time I saw another friend fall at the hands of another Death Eater, they were there to restrain me and keep my mind on track. They didn't let me do anything stupid. As the time went by, I grew to like and depend on them as a friend. We grew close and nearly inseparable – but given the circumstances, it's extremely understandable.

"I was with them when I heard about Remus – I can remember that night like it was last night. It's so vivid in my mind. The owl was nondescript and the parchment was torn. I remember the note had been written in dark blue ink – I remember because, by the firelight, it looked really pretty. It looked like it had been written in a hurry. As I read the words, I felt a wave of emotion fall over me. The maelstrom of feeling was so intense that I just broke down and they were there for me – they just held me until the tears were dammed and the hiccupping stopped. We sat there, in front of our tent by the light of the fire, with their arms around me for hours. That's the night I realized I had fallen in love with him.

"Shut up, Ron, this is important to me," Harry says without even looking at the other man, who huffs and sits back in his seat with his arms crossed. "I have known him for, what is it now? Twelve years. We've been friends for five years and lovers for almost three. We both wonder what our lives would have been like if we had been friends for those entire twelve years – would we still be friends? Or would we have been lovers for longer? Would the people we love still be alive? Would more people have been lost? Would any of this be important? We wonder about these things but we wouldn't have it any other way. We've said what needed to be said and we've played the parts that needed to be played, haven't we? So, are you ready? Are you sure?"

Again, silence answers him. The crowd waits with bated breath, wanting to know who this secret is that the hero has successfully kept that way.

"Okay, just a moment, then, because I'm not sure if he is," he says. Somewhere, a champagne flute is drained. "Stand up, Draco."

Severus Snape could be dancing in a black corset and white pearls, but nobody notices. They're all staring at Draco as he elegantly stands at the table he is sharing with his mother and Pansy Parkinson. All eyes remain on him as he makes his way to the raised dais to stand with Harry.

"Now, the question is: are _you_ ready?" Draco asks the Man Who Lived just a moment before he kisses him.

End.


End file.
